


The Birth of a Lion

by commander_cullywully



Series: Post-DA:I, Little Lion Oneshots [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Birth, Drabble, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Married Life, Oneshot, Romance, non-graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 17:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2820668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commander_cullywully/pseuds/commander_cullywully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen must leave for some dealings in Redcliffe as Gwyn Trevelyan nears the time of the birth of their "little lion."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Birth of a Lion

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy this installment of my Cullen/F!Trevelyan drabbles. This one is a bit longer than the others, but there's a lot I wanted to incorporate. I hope you all like it. Thank you all for reading my fics and leaving kudos. I always appreciate anything you guys give me. As always, feel free to offer me advice, criticism, prompt ideas here or at my tumblr [www.commander-cullywully.tumblr.com]. Thanks guys! -A.

“It’s completely out of the question. I won’t allow it.” Cullen spat, turning away from his wife. She held a hand over her stomach, rubbing it gently. He knew if he looked back at her and met her line of sight, he would cave to her will.

                “We don’t have much choice, Cullen. They asked for me by name.” Her voice was soft, gentle. He knew she hated it as much as he did. She rested her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it.

                “It’s pedantic, it-it’s ridiculous. Surely they don’t expect you to—they have to know you could have the baby any moment!” He squeezed her hand in return, his eyes on the ground.

                “It’s just in Redcliffe. A week, at most. Josephine and I have already been trying to negotiate with them; they’re not budging. They refuse to meet with Josephine. I…I’m running out of options.” Gwyn sighed and knotted her fingers. Cullen focused on a spot on the wall. He would not turn around. The idea of what she was suggesting was ludicrous. “It’s just some stupid trading issues they need dealt with, Cullen. The only people they’re willing to speak to are standing in this room. I’m not anymore a fan of this situation than you are, but…only one of us is really fit to travel and—”

                “The same person who can barely stand to be in the same room as some of these types, I-” Gwyn moved in front of him and he sighed. He could not agree to this. He looked down at Gwyn’s belly, his hands feeling the kicks of their child- their son- within. “I will not miss the birth of my child,” he breathed. Gwyn’s forehead touched his, a half smile growing on her lips.

                “Me go through the hell of childbirth without you? Never.” Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her gently. He closed his eyes and breathed a deep sigh.

                “A week?” He muttered. Gwyn nodded slowly, her nose nuzzling the scruff on his jawline. She felt him run a hand through his hair and then the rise and fall of his chest as he sighed again. “At most?” His voice was ragged. This hurt for him. She wrapped her arms around him, letting his robes envelope her.

                “At most. Provided things go really well and you only take a couple men for the journey, the dealings could take three days. You just….” Her voice trailed off and Cullen looked down at her, his amber eyes puzzled.

                “I just, what?” Gwyn blushed and stifled a laugh.

                “You just have to remain civil.”

                “Are you saying I can’t be civil?” Gwyn gave him a look, her blue eyes daring him. “Well, I’ll admit that I’m not the best to deal with nobility but I’m practically a gentlemen. Your parents even thought so!” Cullen argued. Gwyn rolled her eyes.

                “My father loves anyone I love and my mother despises me. It was probably a miracle to her that I found a man under my ‘condition’ at all.” Cullen took her hands in one of his, placing his other on her stomach. He felt movement and couldn’t hide his smile.

                “I will go…for you,” he kissed her hand and then bent down to her stomach. “And you….don’t you dare start anything without me.” He placed a kiss over the material of Gwyn’s gown and she lifted him to his feet.

                “I won’t let anything happen without you.”

                “I’ll try to be there within a day or two’s time, get matters settled as soon as possible, and ride back as soon as I can. If the dealings aren’t going as planned, I will send for a replacement.” Gwyn nodded in agreement. Cullen’s hand brushed wisps of her bangs out of her face and he felt the long braid of his creation from that morning. His sisters had taught him and he had only got better as he learned knots. It was a secret talent of his that Gwyn kept. He sighed, “Are you sure you can’t come with me?”

                “All the best healers are here at Skyhold, there’s a surgeon nearby…Cole’s even elected to stay close by in case there’s any distress. This is the safest place our little lion could be.” Cullen nodded. She was right, he knew she was.

                “I thought you didn’t like that nickname,” he smirked. His fingers pulled her close to him, breathing in her scent. Strawberries. She’d been sneaking them from the kitchens ever since the Inquisition began back in Haven. The first time he caught her leaving the kitchens with a bowlful of strawberries, she had had a few stuffed into her mouth.

                “This isn’t what it looks like,” she had mumbled, attempting to swallow some in fear.

                “Then what exactly is it?” He had laughed.

                “Since I’m the Herald, the kitchen staff was concerned that these strawberries had been corrupted a-a-and….oh bugger.” She held the bowl out to him, her face reddening. “The circle in Ostwick had this amazing strawberry jam and I heard our kitchen gets their strawberries from the Free Marches, so...I just wanted a bit of home.” Cullen had smiled at her at the time, knowing what it was like to be thrown into something and be expected to adapt. He took a strawberry from the bowl, taking a bite.

                “They’re quite good,” he had murmured, watching the fingers of one hand twist nervously. “Have a good day, Herald.”

                “It’s Gwyn. Gwyn Trevelyan.” Her voice was strong. He looked back at her, a smile growing on her face. He returned the smile, taking a mental picture of the red liquid that had smeared slightly by her lip.

                “You…you’ve got a bit,” he chuckled. Instinctively her free hand shot up to wipe her face. She’d smeared it more. “Allow me.” His voice lowered and he carefully wiped the residual strawberries off. His fingers lingered for a moment before he was sucked back into reality. War. The Inquisition. He had nervously stammered a goodbye before shuffling back to the training area, but couldn’t help but wonder if he had hurt her feelings.

                Now, with the same woman in his arms, carrying his child. It always seemed too good to be true.

                “I love you,” he whispered, holding her tightly. He kissed her hair, her face.

                “And I, you.” They stood in silence for a few moments, wrapped in each other’s arms before Cullen was resigned to ready his horse.

*     *     *

                It was on the fourth day that Cullen had concluded his business in Redcliffe. He’d gotten very little sleep there and had grown impatient each day that no headway had been made. No contact had come from Skyhold, despite the consistent return of his bird. On the return back to Skyhold, he had commanded that they ride straight there with little to no stops, if possible. Before he left, he sent the bird back with a short message to Gwyn: “ _I’m making the return back home. I hope all is well. I love you._ ” They had roughly an hour’s ride left back to Skyhold when the bird returned with a message attached. “ _Hurry_.” His heart sunk. The handwriting was almost illegible. He didn’t even think it was Gwyn’s, the more he looked at it. Without a word, Cullen dug his heels in, his horse running at a gallop. The pounding of his heart echoed in his head the closer he got to Skyhold. There was the bridge, the stairs. He ran into the main hall, his eyes searching wildly for the sign of a servant, a scout, anyone. A woman was leaving from the door leading to the stairs of their chamber.

                “Where is she?” He growled. The woman jumped, her back against the wall.

                “Commander! She asked us not to-”

                “I will not ask you again. Where. Is. She?” Cullen took a step forward.

                “Cold, lots of pressure. Fear. Lots of fear. Did you get my letter?” Cole’s voice was quiet as he stepped from the doorway. Cullen’s face paled.

                “Is she….is she okay? Are they both…?” Cullen was frantic, his voice was breaking. Cole motioned for Cullen to follow. The two bounded up the stairs where Cullen heard a wail. Gwyn. He stepped to go into the door when Cole stopped him, his small body blocking the entryway.

                “So much pain, so many thoughts. She needs you. So much fear. From both of you,” Cullen moved to push past him but Cole closed his eyes and stopped him. “I can only go in there if I sense…” He swallowed, “Everything is fine, but everyone is scared. You needn’t be. Gwyn is strong, as are you. That’s all.” Another wail echoed in the hall as Cullen patted Cole’s shoulder and mouthed a thank you. Taking a deep breath, he entered the room.

                Gwyn lay propped on the bed, beads of sweat dripping down her face. Healers and a midwife surrounded her, wiping her face with rags and whispering words of encouragement. Gwyn’s hair was kept in a loose braid- no doubt one she’d done herself- and she began to cry at the sight of him. Cullen pulled his gloves off, twisting them nervously as he approached her side. He sat on the side of the bed and took her face in his hands.

                “You foolish woman,” He laughed softly, “you weren’t even going to tell me, were you?” He planted a kiss on her cheek and stroked her head.

                “I didn’t want to worry you,” Her voice was small as she doubled over and whimpered.

                “Shhhh, darling. It’s okay. You do whatever you need to do, I’m right here.” He held her hand tightly. She squeezed it and tears erupted down her face. Cullen instinctively wiped them as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Remember that day you told me your name for the first time? You’d talked to me a few times before…” she winced in pain and nodded. “You always sought me out every time you came back from a mission, I swear. You’d find me faster than any assassin ever would.” She chuckled and Cullen breathed a sigh of relief. He loved her laugh.

                “I met you that day on the battlefield and I thought you were nice-enough looking…but it was that day with the strawberries that I felt sparks. You were so _funny_ and charming, I didn’t think it was possible to have a person like you in my life.” Gwyn squeezed his hand tightly and he wiped the sweat from her face with a nearby towel. “You’re doing fine, love.”

                “Tell me more,” she whispered. He smiled and kissed her forehead.

                “The day that Haven became overrun, I was terrified for you. I was trying to remain level-headed, but you were brilliant. You kept calm, you were resourceful, you were so brave—you still are. When we found you in the snow, you were freezing but drifting in and out of consciousness. The whole time I carried you back to camp, I thanked the Maker we found you when we did. You were so small in my arms and I thought that if you woke up, I would make it a personal mission of mine to tell you more about myself, to spend more time with you.” Gwyn grit her teeth and held onto her stomach.

“It hurts so badly,” she whimpered. The midwife lifted the sheets to check between her legs. She groaned as the midwife shook her head and sighed.

“It’s not quite time yet, dear. Just a little longer. You’re bein’ fierce, Inquisitor,” the midwife explained apologetically. Gwyn squeezed Cullen’s hand and let out a deep breath.

                “Keep going,” she whispered. Cullen brushed his lips against her forehead.

                “You said my name. It was soft and, at first, I thought I might have imagined it.  At camp, you said it again while the healers worked on you. Maker’s Breath, it was one of the sweetest sounds I’d ever heard. I had to walk away to hide my grin; oh, Leliana teased me for days.” Gwyn winced and shook her head.

                “I don’t know if I can do this, Cullen.” Silent tears ran down her cheeks and Cullen stroked her head. His fingers ran over her cheeks, tracing over a small scar on her jawline. Her hands shook as a sob escaped her throat. “If something happens to me or him,” her fingers found his and Cullen shook his head.

                “Maker, no. Nothing is going happen to either of you,” he whispered. “Cole hasn’t come in and you’re doing just fine.” He nuzzled her face until he felt her fingers run through his hair. She pulled him into the bed, where he sat up and allowed her to rest between his legs. Her head rested on his chest, listening to his heart beating. From time to time, she’d dig her nails into him and wince from the pain until they heard Cole from the hallway.

                “It’s time!” He shouted. Gwyn looked up at her husband, her face panicked as she felt a stabbing pain. The midwife hurried over and performed a quick examination.

                “The baby’s coming, dear. Ready to push?” A smile grew on her face and Cullen kissed his wife gently. He squeezed her hands.

                “Let’s get our son out here,” he grinned. Gwyn nodded wearily and squeezed his hands back. She sat in front of him, her back leaning into him as he breathed in the scent of strawberries wafting from her hair. As Gwyn pushed and pushed, Cullen allowed her to squeeze his hands, or legs. She’d become exhausted for moments and cry into his collarbone before he’d stroke her hair and offer encouragement.

                “It’s crowning!” The midwife exclaimed. “Just a bit more, dear. We just need a couple more big pushes.” Gwyn’s face was streaked with tears.

                “I don’t think I can,” she cried. Cullen wiped her hair from her face and kissed her.

                “I know it hurts, love. I know. But you can do this.” He ran his fingers down her arms before she finally nodded and held his hands. Her brow furrowed, she bared down and screamed.

“One last push, dear!” The midwife instructed. Gwyn squeezed Cullen’s hands and, suddenly, the room filled with a crying sound that Cullen couldn’t fathom. Gwyn glanced back at Cullen, both of them crying. It was the most angelic sound he’d ever heard. He kissed his wife on the forehead as the midwife and the healers took the baby.

“You…you did it.” He whispered. Gwyn was sobbing as she breathed into his chest. He moved her slightly so they could sit side-by-side, but, before they could say another word, the midwife laid the baby on Gwyn’s chest.

“Meet your son.” She whispered to the couple. Gwyn immediately wrapped her arms around the infant and looked up at Cullen. In awe, her fingers traveled to the light wisps of hair on the baby’s head. Cullen couldn’t find the words to speak.

“He’s beautiful,” she choked out as she cradled him. Cullen kissed his wife and carefully reached for his son’s fingers. They were unbelievably small. His wife, still soaked with sweat and completely exhausted, held the infant as if she’d been doing it her whole life. This could not be real.

“You’re both beautiful. I am so unbelievably proud of you.” His voice was low and she rested her head in the crook of his neck. He watched as his wife bent to kiss the crown of the baby’s head. Her free hand squeezed Cullen’s.

 “What are we going to name him?” A laugh escaped her throat and Cullen ran the pad of his thumb over his son’s palm.

“What about Cedric?” The name just came to him. He wasn’t sure where, but it seemed to fit somehow. Gwyn smiled down at the little boy, whose tongue was flopping out of his mouth. She looked back at Cullen and nodded.

“Cedric Stanton Rutherford. It’s perfect.” Gwyn kissed her husband on the cheek as Cullen repeated the name to himself. It was still so surreal. A year ago, he never would’ve thought he’d find love, let alone have a son with his name tacked onto the end of it. “Do you want to hold him?” She whispered. Cullen didn’t know what to say.

“I…” Gwyn shook her head as if she could sense every worry that flashed in his mind at that moment.

“You’ll be fine. You won’t break him.” She leaned close to him, carefully placing him into Cullen’s arms. He sucked in a breath as everything sank in. The baby was so small in his arms, every inch so perfect. Cullen helped make this- this perfect thing. Something good. Tears welled in his eyes as he looked at Gwyn, wiping tears of her own. She nodded, knowing where his mind sometimes trailed off to, and rested her head on his shoulder. Cullen explored his son, taking in his soft skin, as well as the wisps of blonde hair that he wondered would later bring about curls. His small eyes opened- blue, like his mother’s- and looked up at him.

“Hello Cedric,” Cullen whispered, his face glowing. “I’m your father,” Cullen forced out a small laugh as the infant’s fingers wrapped around one of his. Gwyn smiled thoughtfully.

“My boys,” she whispered happily, planting a kiss on Cullen’s shoulder.

“I never thought I could love you more, but you keep proving me wrong.” He kissed the top of her head.  As Cullen cradled their son, he looked down to see his Gwyn sleeping soundly. The midwife approached and Cullen pressed a finger to his lips.

“He’ll need a feeding soon.” She whispered. Cullen nodded and looked back at his sleeping wife.

“D’you mind if she rests a bit? I mean, she carried him for months. I think I could handle him for a few minutes.” The midwife smiled and nodded.

“I think she’d have a hard time prying him from your hands, if she wasn’t his mother.” She retorted before leaving the room, laughing.

“She’s probably right, y’know.” He whispered to his son, a smile tugging on his lips. Cullen stared down at his son, his eyes completely filled with love.


End file.
